


Even When the Skies Break

by snewvilliurs



Series: The NORA House Chronicles [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Gen, no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snewvilliurs/pseuds/snewvilliurs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow hasn't been the same since Serah's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even When the Skies Break

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the news of Snow's appearance in Lightning Returns that we've been getting for the past few days, but what really drew the line for was the quote in his character bio on the [official site](http://lightningreturns.com/characters/snow). As a Lebreau RPer, I just needed to get some of muse's feels out, since we're not 100% sure yet if NORA will return in this one. (Making myself even sadder with this is another story.)

_“We all come into the world alone, and that’s the way we’ve gotta leave it.”_

The sound is like the door has been kicked open, but even that doesn’t make Snow jump. He turns around without much energy, and only frowns at the sight of Lebreau marching towards him, Gadot in tow—no surprise, no relief. He doesn’t even wonder where Maqui and Yuj are. Probably dead. That’s the most he can assume about more or less everyone he knew.

“You, you little shit—” she starts to say, and Gadot can’t hold her back from grabbing Snow’s collar and pushing him up against the nearest wall so hard he feels some dull pain when his head knocks back against it. Tiny as she is, there’s something that’s always scared Gadot about the fact that if she’s just angry enough, she can knock out the both of them.

They used to joke about how her anger could move mountains if she tried. That seems like so long ago.

“Do you think she would _want_ to see you like this?” When he doesn’t answer, only looks down at her with a look in his eyes that nauseates her, she shakes him and her tone sharpens—that’s when she dares say her name. “Serah? If you were dead, she would have _never_ given up.”

At that, he looks as if he’s just been hit with freezing cold water, but he still doesn’t say anything, just grabs her wrists and pulls them away from his shirt, her hands balling into fists. Gadot isn’t sure at first whether it's anger or pain, but when the latter flashes clear across her face, that’s when he steps in and knocks Snow’s hands away, realizing how tight he was gripping her. The last time he hurt her was when she had asked him to spar and she’d missed one of her blocks, deflecting his punch to her chest instead of her face—and he’d been so sorry about it that he tried to make dinner for her, bringing her ice every fifteen minutes until she told him (a little bit threateningly) that she wasn’t made of glass.

“Snow,” Gadot says quietly. “This isn’t you.”

Snow finally speaks. “No shit.”

“Well, if you realize, why won’t you grow the fuck up and just—do right by her memory?” Lebreau snaps.

Gadot says her name. She’s not helping. She knows she’s not helping—she’s being horrible to him, even. But she can’t help the words; she’s never been the one to say what Snow, or anyone, wants to hear. In this case, she would rather die than say what he wants to hear. _So, die. Go see her again. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be together, even if it means this._

Serah wouldn’t want that.

“We thought you were dead.” Snow looks to her again when she speaks, and she stands straight, looks him in the eye even when his gaze flickers to the red marks around her wrists. His hands. “We never once stopped holding on. Because we knew you would’ve smacked some sense into us— _heroes never die! I’ll live on inside you guys as long as you believe in me! You’ll be okay!_ We knew that’s what you would have said. So why can’t you realize that Serah feels the same about you?”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” he snaps.

“Do I? She’s the one who means the most to you, the only one; you’ve made that pretty clear. But don’t you _dare_ tell me it’s not the same. We don’t have a Serah, me and Gadot—we don’t have a fiancé we want to spend the rest of our lives with. We have you, though. And maybe you don’t realize, but you mean just as much to us as Serah does to you.”

“At least you have each other. What does it matter if I—”

“But you have us too!”

He looks at Lebreau, then at Gadot, and Lebreau again before covering his face with one of his hands and sliding down the wall until he’s got his knees pulled up to his chest. He’s so, so broken. Lebreau wants to cry.

“I couldn’t protect her.”

Gadot hesitates for a moment before crouching down in front of him. “She didn’t need you to anymore. The one you need to protect now is yourself.”

Silence stretches between them. Snow keeps his head bent, but even just that gesture is more like him, like how he’s always been when he doubts himself. Lebreau goes to sit next to him slowly, quietly, as if she’s afraid do disturb the very air.

“Do you remember what you told me, when we met?” She doesn’t let him answer; of course he remembers the orphanage. The way the other kids used to bully her, pulling on her braids, and that one day where he stood between them and decided that she was to be in his and Gadot’s protection from now on. “You said, ‘maybe you’ve been alone ‘til now, but now you have us, and you won’t ever have to be alone again as long as we’re together’. So I’m not going to give up on either of you as long as we’re together.”

As long as they’re together.

She reaches out and pulls his hand away from his face, tucking her smaller one in his and reaching the other out for Gadot’s. It’s awkward, to be sitting like this holding hands—she’s never been very demonstrative with her affection (outside of smacks on the head and motherly annoyance), even less than the both of them combined—but it’s the first human warmth he’s truly felt in much too long.

“We don’t have to leave this world alone,” she says finally. How she knows he said that, he’s not sure—he’s not even sure how they’re alive, much less here with him—but what matters is that maybe she’s right.

When he opens his eyes, they’ve faded away. So that’s why—

Snow feels the sting of tears at his eyes, and his brand starts to glow ominously, but he covers it with his hand. Even if the brightness still escapes from between his fingers, it’s good enough like this, to pretend his arm is still unmarked like it once was; like they were with him just a few seconds ago and have just gone into the other room to get drinks.

At least he knows this: they’ll always be together.


End file.
